In the bright lime-tree branches
Dies a fainting mort. But lively song
Flutters among the currant bushes.
So that our bloods may laugh in our veins,
See the vines tangling themselves.

The sky is as pretty as an angel,
The azure and the wave commune.
I go out. If a sunbeam wounds me
I shall succumb on the moss.
Being patient and being bored
Are too simple. To the devil with my cares.

I want dramatic summer
To bind me to its chariot of fortune.
Let me most because of you, o Nature, -
Ah ! less alone and less useless ! - die.

There where the Shepherds, it's strange,
Die more or less because of the world.
I am willing that the seasons should wear me out.
To you, Nature, I surrender ;
With my hunger and all my thirst.

And, if it please you, feed and water me.
Nothing, nothing at all deceives me ;
To laugh at the sun is to laugh at one's parents,
But I do not wish to laugh at anything ;
And may this misfortune go free.
~~

May Banners
(alternative translation
)
In the bright branches of the lindens dies a sickly hunting call.
But the lively songs fly about in the currant bushes.
So that our blood will laugh in our veins, here are the vines all entangled.
The sky is pretty as an angel.
The azure and the wave commune.
I go out. If a ray of light wounds me, I will expire on the moss

To be patient and to be bored are to simple. Fie* on my cares.
I want a dramatic summer to bind me to it's chariot of fortune.
Let me, o nature, mostly through you
- Ah ! less alone and less worthless ! - die.
In the place where the shepherds, it is strange,
die approximately through out the world
I am willing that the seasons wear me out.
To you nature, I give myself over;
And my hunger and all my thirst.
And, if you will, feed and water me.

Nothing at all deceives me;
To laugh at the sun is to laugh at one's parents,
but I do not want to laugh at anything;
And may this misfortune be free.